In the Backseat
by Shut up Sato
Summary: Yes, yes we can all get caught up in the fantasies of heroes and heroines and sidekicks.  But really it all comes down to who is in the driver's seat and who is in the backseat. Let me tell you why. -Riley


Yes, yes we can all get caught up in the fantasies of heroes and heroines and _sidekicks_. We can remember the leader who saved the world and forget the few that helped him along his way. But really it all comes down to who is in the driver's seat and who is in the backseat.

Let me tell you why.

See, on the night where I went totally insane (Ben's been insane since like, forever, so no change there) and helped him steal the Declaration of Independence, I was in the _driver's_ _seat_ the whole time. When we drove the archives, (most of the time) when Ben was actually inside the archives, and when we were driving for -not _our_ lives, but- Abigail's life, away from the archives (...frickin' archives). Anyways, _Ben_ was the one in the backseat- not that there _was_ a backseat, really, it was just him dangling from the back of my (cherry red, gas-guzzling, easily replaced by a _sweeeeeeeet_ two door _Ferrari 360 Spider_, portable technological wonder of a) van. While being _shot_ at. Now _I_ was being shot at too, but I was more interested in not being flattened by other cars.

But aside from driving I was, always, in the backseat. Sure, I was the one who got Ben into the gala, but let's remember: _Ben_ was the one who got into the place, I stayed a good distance away in a safe location (across the street in the get away car); _Ben_ had to be total spy under cover, I sat in jeans with only a laptop near by; _Ben_ breezed his way through boring (and valuable time consuming) conversations with snooty (but deceptively hot) Gala-goers, I complained in the backseat, worrying about prisons without wi-fi. I didn't come up with the password without the aid of the computer (_although_ the computer really wasn't given the best information; "_She pressed E and L twice_"...but whatever). I didn't come up with the Declaration (in an evidently heavy case) while being shot at (...again). I didn't jeopardize the whole (crazy, insane, _life-sentence in jail_ worthy) plan by getting caught by the giftshop girl then saving it by buying a decoy (love that word) and paying for the one he just stole.

Ben did. He came up with a new plan in five seconds. He was the hero (yea, okay) who wanted me (me- who _tried_ to get a license for years before I-finally-passed) to just race over and save the bossy blonde history she-nerd from the lunatics in the taco truck.

Ah, but who am I kidding?

Because according to some people (who shall remain unnamed just for the fact that he is as insane as Ben is and I don't hold it against him so I'm not about to hold it against his dad) the fact that Ben only had me willing to help was _laughable_. And Ben didn't even do anything about it (much like how later he didn't even read my book-but whatever, Ben, I'm over it!) when his dad scoffed at me. True I wasn't exactly _aware_ of all that much right then (pizza- you understand) but I did _mull_ over the fact that he inadvertently told his dad that some lady he just met (and who laughed at us, who he sent a gift to, who nearly got us killed- not that we weren't in trouble by ourselves at that point, who yelled -and swore- at us) was bearing his child (the poor kid would've been stabbed with a pencil after its first history class- uhhg) yet he didn't even have the decency to tell his dad that I'm not something to scoff at but his _best friend_.

Yes, I _am_. Notice the present tense. Yea, so we hardly ever talked after he moved in with Abigail and the months afterward while I was writing my book, it's cool. Even if he did ignore me when we went through the whole European-fancy-desk-white-house-president-kidnapping-city-of-gold adventure of fear that was finding Cibola, it's ok. Even if he didn't give much of a fight when I (seriously, like someone in the DRIVER'S SEAT! would do) offered to stay behind on the freakishly terrifying table of death, he still saved us (by almost dying himself, the lunatic!). And so what if he blew me off to go be with her after we all got out (minus one Mitch -but he almost had Ben stay behind so) of the water logged tunnel.

Ben cares. I know he does, because he needed me. He needed me in the backseat. And I'm happy to be there (I'm sure my Ferrari would be too, but I'm not giving up my car for nothing! No more fake rich-people-island-schemes). If I hadn't been the backseat guy I am, I wouldn't have been there. I wouldn't have found two treasures, I would've still been in that (grey, boring, suicidal thought inducing, rubix cube of a) cubical, and I wouldn'tv'e had Ben.

That's right, my friends. I may be in the backseat, but at least I had Ben.

First go at National Treasure fic and it's Riley angsting? ...what the hell am I smoking? Alright you can blame the fact that I realized I know this movie too well. Fact- if you can hear it down a hall way with the door shut through a wall after hearing on line, you know a movie too well. Anyways after that Riley kept talking to me so... yea I don't know if the italics and () those things help Rileys voice to come out well or not. I was trying to get his sarcasm, niavity(sp?) and his general way of talking into writen form but I'm not sure how well I did. Thank you so much for reading. Sorry for murdering your eyes for the downright abusive use of italics and ()... Wow, this is getting longer than the freaking story isn't it? (awkward laugh)

Ok! Thanks for reading, try to review if you can, i love to get favorited too! ok... bye!

-**J**


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